


Between Times

by atlanxic



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Non-binary character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 14:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12986166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlanxic/pseuds/atlanxic
Summary: Morgan doesn't think much of it at first. They're at war, after all. Surely everyone has nightmares. They sometimes kill a dozen people in a day, and hear each one of them curse or cry or say the names of their loved ones. So it's no wonder that sometimes, in their dreams, it is their partners in arms that they're cutting down instead.





	Between Times

**Author's Note:**

> idk if anyone still needs spoiler warnings but this is spoilers for the future past dlc

Morgan doesn't think much of it at first. They're at war, after all. Surely everyone has nightmares. They sometimes kill a dozen people in a day, and hear each one of them curse or cry or say the names of their loved ones. So it's no wonder that sometimes, in their dreams, it is their partners in arms that they're cutting down instead.

They try to put it out of their mind. They do a good job of it, normally. There's a lot to do and see around camp. Teasing Yarne, sharpening weapons, trying to get into Brady and Severa's secret society... Sure it's not all fun and games, but there are a lot of bright and happy moments.

They do their best to share that happiness with others. Sometimes they get cuts and bruises along the way, and other times they wind up getting in trouble instead. But it's worth it. These people are their family. Robin belongs here, belongs at Chrom's side and at the head of their army. So Morgan belongs here, too.

They belong here, sparring with Owain, shouting out the names of their attacks. They're still an amateur with the sword, and even worse with riding a horse, but the sparring helps. Falling off your horse after shouting "Rolling thunder!" at the top of your lungs doesn't feel so painful as falling off your horse after Frederick tells you for the third time to mind your posture.

They spring to their feet before Owain can land his blow (Cracking Flames). Their tome is still on their saddle, but they have their sword, and for the first time, they manage to disarm Owain, his axe thunking into the grass three feet away.

He shouts out, "Nooo, you fiend!" and echoed in his scream, Morgan can hear the rain of a stormy night, can smell his blood soaking into the mud, can almost feel Inigo approaching, bloodlust and vengeance painted in his eyes.

"Hey, you ok?" Owain asks, stepping out from behind their blade. "You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine!" Morgan replies, smiling. "I just wasn't expecting to beat you, is all!"

"Don't think you have me bested yet, my ally-versary!" Owain exclaims, picking up his axe. "That was only your third win out of twenty!"

"Eighteen, by my count," Morgan replies.

"Was it eighteen?" Owain asks. "Well, anyway, I am as ravenous as twenty wolves, let's get something to eat."

"Sounds good!" Morgan says.

The tent serving as their mess hall is too small for the current size of their army, so it's always full to burst. Unable to find seats inside, Morgan and Owain bring their plates out to the edge of camp. On this grassy hill, in the shade of a big tree, the sounds of people eating and talking and training spread out below them... The war almost feels like a dream.

"What has your thoughts today, my fair rival?" Owain asks.

"Say, what do you dream of?" Morgan asks, gazing down at the bustle of camp.

"Why of course, I have only the same noble dream that everyone gathered here shares, to restore peace to all the realms," Owain declares, mouth still half-full.

"No no," Morgan says. "I don't mean your ambitions, I mean, when you're sleeping. What do you dream about?"

"Oh," Owain replies. He droops slightly, stepping out of his dramatic persona to be perfectly frank for a moment. "Well, lately I have nightmares, mostly."

"Can you tell me about them?" Morgan asks, curling towards him.

"I can hear the dying screams of everyone I've cut down," Owain admits. "The Plegian soldiers, the armies of Valm, even the screeches of the risen. Sometimes it feels like they're trying to drag me into hell with them."

Morgan nods sympathetically. "Yeah," they say. They hesitate before speaking again. "Do you ever see people you haven't killed, among them? Like your friends?"

"Never," Owain replies. Unease grips Morgan's heart, shallows their breathing. They push it down. Close their eyes, feel the wind, listen to snippets of conversation floating up to them.

"Let me take your plate back to the mess tent," they say, standing up.

"Oh, thanks," Owain replies, and hands it to them.

As they walk away, they do their best to leave that conversation, and the feelings it stirred in them, behind as well.

\---

Yarne's figure as he runs is entrancing to them. His long strides through the wet grass, the sound of his wheezing and panting somehow audible even over the sound of Morgan's horse, gaining on him. He screams, as Morgan cuts into his back. They can feel their toes curl, feel the grin spreading across their face. He whines and twitches on the ground. Morgan gets off their horse, and readies their blade.

They wake up in a cold sweat, Yarne's worried face above them as he shakes their shoulder.

"Morgan, are you alright?" he asks. "You were making sounds in your sleep again..."

"I'm alright if you're alright, Bunny," they reply, just slightly out of breath, sitting up and grinning.

"Hey, I thought I told you not to call me that any more," Yarne complains.

Morgan pulls him into a headlock and aggressively pets him. He squirms and paws at their arm.

"Hey, let me go," he whines. Morgan's dream, still fresh in their mind, flashes before their eyes. They let go, quickly.

Yarne blinks a couple times. "That was too easy," he says, narrowing his eyes. "What are you plotting?"

"Me, plotting?" Morgan asks, feigning offence. "Why would you ever think that?"

Yarne laughs.

\---

"Hey, you've got a lot to explain," Brady says, almost shouts, as he storms up to Morgan.

They look up from their half-finished house of cards. "Sure thing, what do you need help with?"

He seems taken a bit off guard by their sunny reply, so they keep going. "If it's grammar again I can help you out no problem, but if you want help with arithmetic you're probably better off asking Severa."

"I ain't talkin' about arithmetic!" Brady shouts. Morgan blinks a couple times. "I'm talkin' about that battle! We went back to the past, and saved our.. past selves? future past selves?" He trails off.

"Our alternate selves, in my opinion," Morgan supplies.

"Yeah, _our_ alternate selves!" Brady shouts again. "Not yours. You were out there trying to kill us!"

Morgan's blood runs cold.

"I'm very sorry," they supply, still holding onto a wavering smile.

"Well sorry don't cut it!" Brady tells them. "You're not one of us, you're a traitor. So get out."

"A- Alright," they reply. "I promise you that I have no recollection of ever trying to k- to harm you, but I don't expect you to believe me, especially if you saw me out there yourself."

"Hey, don't think that crying will get you out of this one," Brady says, crossing his arms.

Morgan touches their face, and is surprised to note that they are in fact, crying. "I'm sorry," they say, and they're still trying to smile, but not really succeeding. "I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention."

"I don't care what your intention was, you snake," Brady hisses. "Get out of here."

Chrom strides into the tent.

"Brady, what are you saying?" he asks, his voice ringing with the authority of his upbringing.

"Morgan was there, Chrom!" Brady says, pointing. "They were there, and they sure as fuck weren't there to help."

Chrom casts a worried look towards Morgan. "Brady," he says, palms outwards. "I'm sure there's an explanation for this. There's no need to cast out one of our own."

"That snake ain't one of ours," Brady says. "I know what I saw."

Chrom looks to Morgan again, and Morgan realizes that he's expecting some sort of explanation.

"I'm sorry," they say again, and rub at their eyes with the heels of their hands. "I still don't have any memories beyond the memories of Robin I've already shared with you."

"Still," Chrom says. "I've seen you fight at our sides. I've seen your determination, your strength, your love for your comrades."

"But," Brady starts.

Chrom cuts him off with a glare. "I have decided to trust Morgan, just as we all trust Robin," he says. "Are you questioning my judgement?"

"No, sir," Brady backs down.

They both leave the tent.

Slowly, Morgan dismantles their house of cards.

\---

"Hey," Inigo says, plopping himself down beside Morgan.

Morgan smiles at him. "Hello," they say. "Are you hitting on me today, or asking me to help you hit on other people?"

"Hey, I do other things!" he says. "I'm not doing either of those right now, look!"

Morgan narrows their eyes, still smiling. "We'll see about that."

"I'm actually here to talk about something serious," he says.

"How rare!" Morgan exclaims.

"Can you fuck off for one minute," Inigo snaps. "Brady says he saw you on the battlefield, in that other world."

Morgan catches themself just before the smile falls off their face. "Oh, yeah," they say. "I mean, I'm sure he did."

Inigo stares at them, a prompt to go on.

"I really don't know anything about it, but I won't blame you if you don't believe me," they supply, and shrug. "I'd probably hate me too, if our positions were reversed."

"No one's saying anything about hating you," Inigo says. "And I know you better than that. I don't think you'd hold someone's past or alternate self's actions against them."

"Ahaha, you're probably right," Morgan replies. "I'm sure I'd even trust the fell dragon itself, if it fed me the right lines."

"Well, that's what you've got us around for," Inigo tells them. "To keep you out of trouble."

"I think that maybe I am trouble," Morgan replies ruefully.

"Maybe so," Inigo replies. "But still, if Chrom says you belong here, then you do."

"I dream about killing you, sometimes," Morgan admits, surprised by how small their own voice sounds. "And it's so vivid, Inigo, it scares me."

"Your nightmares can't hurt me," Inigo replies, after a short pause. "And I know you won't, either."

"Would you cut me down, if you had to?" Morgan asks, staring at the ground.

"It won't come to that," Inigo replies.

"But if it did," Morgan insists.

"It won't."

**Author's Note:**

> based on this theory http://atlanxic.tumblr.com/post/168410736316/i-know-its-literally-years-too-late-to-be-fea


End file.
